<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Hanged Man Sings by godlymoss</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020568">The Hanged Man Sings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/godlymoss/pseuds/godlymoss'>godlymoss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brian's voice is beautiful and Galahad is a SIMP, Humors Of Whiskey, M/M, Singing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:35:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/godlymoss/pseuds/godlymoss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The rust blows through in clouds, the closest thing Fort Galfridian has to a stormy day. The Hanged Man dangles alone(or so he thinks) in the sun and the wind... and he begins to sing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drumbot Brian (The Mechanisms)/Galahad (High Noon Over Camelot)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Hanged Man Sings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thick metal ropes creaked as the load they bore shifted just slightly in the rust-laden wind, echoing across an empty town as the fluorescent sun beat down against the ruddy steel of Camelot’s floor. No one is out now- too hot, too dry, too windy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>No one but the Hanged Man, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He stays, unmoving, the sun heating his tarnished metal skin to a broil. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Same as always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Merlin took a deep breath with lungs that do not exist, sighing heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He misses the stars. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He misses fresh air. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He misses-</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He misses the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>All of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonny.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He almost laughed as he imagined the first mate’s reaction to his situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Really, Brian? Two thousand years hanging from a rope, over a PARKING TICKET? Fuck’s sake.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>He let out a breathy chuckle. When was the last time he’d seen Jonny? Before the others had left the station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Before they’d forgotten him.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Back when the station was prospering, when the rain still fell and there was no rust. He and the others were in a saloon, having a few drinks… singing together, as they did.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He tried to remember the song…</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“...</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Come guess me this riddle: what beats pipes and fiddle…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>His voice was rough and weak from disuse, but he continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“...What’s hotter than mustard and milder than cream? What best wets your whistle-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>His voice stalled for a moment, weathered and damaged voicebox whirring as it tried to keep up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Wh- what’s clearer than crystal? Sw- sweeter than honey-y, and stronger than steam...?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>His voice distorted before clearing, gaining strength and volume as he went on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“What will make the dumb talk? What will make the lame walk? The elixir of life and philosopher’s stone!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>He began to smile as he continued singing, a familiar warm feeling spreading through what had once been his heart.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“And what helped Mr. Brunel to dig the Thames Tunnel? Wasn't it... whiskey from old Inishowen?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>He was too caught up in the moment to notice the figure that watched him, from behind the corner of the town’s one saloon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“So stick to the cratur' the best thing in nature, for drowning your sorrows and raising your joys!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>His voice rang out clear as a bell through the (mostly) empty wastes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Oh lord, it's no wonder, if lightning and thunder were made from the plunder of…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>He paused, before whispering the last line.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“Whiskey, me boys.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <span>He let his head fall back with a laugh, feeling better than he had in ages. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed</span>
  </em>
  <span> that!</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The wind blew again, sending a plume of red dust rolling across the town- and Merlin heard someone cough.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jolted. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>“W- who’s there?? Show yourself!”<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>None of the residents of Camelot would be out in this (as far as he knows), and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> would prefer not to get shot up by a raiding party again.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>There was a moment of silence- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>And the preacher man stepped out from his hiding spot.<br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I- er. Hello, Merlin! ’S just me, promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The Hanged Man relaxed at the sight of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Oh. What- what are you doing out here, Galahad? This is hardly the weather to be out- you don’t even have a rust mask on! Go back inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The preacher shuffled his feet a little, looking down. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I just thought- I didn’t want to leave ya out here alone, ‘s all… ‘n then I heard you singin’, and I- well- I thought it was real nice… so I stopped to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He turned a little red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Merlin went quiet for a moment.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“...Oh. Well- ah. Thank you, Galahad. That’s quite kind of you- but you should still head inside, it isn’t safe out here. I appreciate the thought, though.” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He gave the preacher man a soft smile, which seemed to make him redder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I- uh- al-alright, Merlin… talk to ya later? Wh- when it ain’t as bad out?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Another gust blew through town, stirring up the rust in a swirling cloud.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span>“Of course.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>